


I Don't Want Anybody Else (oh no, oh no, oh no)

by LaurytheLatrator



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: All your headcanons are valid, Case Fic, Connor Deserves Happiness, Enemies to Lovers, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gavin Reed's Cat - Freeform, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, M/M, Murder Mystery, POV Alternating, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23659393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurytheLatrator/pseuds/LaurytheLatrator
Summary: Connor and Gavin must work together to solve a gruesome murder that will test their feelings on justice, love, and what it means to be human.
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Connor/Gavin Reed
Comments: 80
Kudos: 183





	1. Chapter 1

Red and blue lights flashed over a familiar locale. An abandoned house. Detroit was made of those.

“Scene secure?” Gavin called out as he walked up the cement path to the front door.

Officer Miller was there with the patrolmen, and he answered, “Sure is, detective.”

“Sweet,” Gavin said with a smirk, “Let’s get this locked down and be outta here by dawn.”

As he was passing the group, “Hey,” Chris gripped him by the shoulder, and Gavin was about to shrug him off when he noticed the real fear in his eyes. He stopped, giving Chris a once over; the man looked shaken, there was sweat on his upper lip and brow, and he kept wetting his lips. Gavin hadn’t seen him like this in a while. Chris took a breath and said, “It’s a bad one.”

Had it been anyone else, Gavin might’ve said something flippant like, _I’ll be the judge of that_. But this time he nodded, taking Chris at his word, and the officer let him go.

_Well_ , Gavin thought as soon as he entered the crime scene, _Chris was right._

What might’ve been a living room in another life was empty except for their murder victim. The bare concrete floor was painted in blood, drying and tacky, beneath the body of what seemed to be a woman. She was naked and lying on her back, her limbs spread like a starfish. Her head was nowhere to be seen. Likewise her arms ended right above her wrists and her legs mid-calves. Gavin moved closer, circling the bloodstain, to get a better look at her chest. There was a lot of blood smeared around her sternum, but he thought… Gavin squinted. It looked like someone had taken a chisel right between her breasts. The hole was deep, he could see faint scratches on white bone.

Suddenly a voice made him jump. “Good morning, Detective Reed.” His foot slipped perilously close to the blood.

“Goddamn—” Gavin cursed loudly, stumbling backwards and rounding on the android. RK800, or Connor, stood at the entrance to another room that Gavin, absorbed with the body, hadn’t noticed. Glancing behind him, it looked like a kitchen. The android had the nerve to smile at him, as if he thought it was funny catching Gavin off-guard. “Fuck, don’t ever sneak up on me,” Gavin snarled, and the android’s mouth smoothed into a neutral line, “Cause I won’t hesitate to shoot first, got it?”

Dryly, the android said, “Your concern for my well-being is touching.”

Damn. Gavin shook his head, looking away from him. “What the fuck are you doing at my crime scene?”

The android tilted its head slightly. “I was not aware this was ‘your’ crime scene. Dispatch alerted me to come here as well.”

Typical. “Fucking Fowler,” Gavin muttered, “I’ll be having fucking words in the morning.”

“It is presently 3:48AM, it’s already—”

“Shut up, iWatch.” Letting out a sigh, Gavin pressed two fingers to his temples. He could feel a headache coming on the longer the android was around. After a moment, he barked at him, “Just stay out of my goddamn way.”

Gavin didn’t look at the android to see if that got a response, just crouched as close as he could to the body. With his latex gloved hands, he reached out to the nearest limb, her right arm. Gingerly he lifted it out of the pool of blood, turning the wrist so he could examine the cuts. Signs of serration on the skin. Splintered bone fragments peeked out among the flesh. Probably a saw, maybe even a specialized bonesaw.

“Weird,” he mumbled to himself. He shifted so he could look at the edges of her right leg. Same serration. Next he moved to her neck, what was left of it. Less blood, edges were cleaner. In fact, he glanced back over the blood, most of it was centered around her limbs and torso, not the head.

“We got an ID?” He asked idly, then realized who was in the room, and instantly regretted it.

“I took a DNA sample while I was waiting for you,” Gavin bristled and opened his mouth to retort, but the android kept talking, “Dianne Lewis, age 33, no criminal record, she is registered as working in the civil court’s office as a legal aide.”

Gavin rocked back on his heels. “Huh.”

From behind him he heard the android say, “You sound confused, Detective.”

Another sigh. Gavin stood to his full height, cursing that it was shorter than Mr. Perfect over there, and rounded on the android.

“I’m _thinking_ ,” He snapped at his stupid doe-eyed face. “But let me guess, you’ve already got it all figured out?”

The android blinked. Stupid. He didn’t even need to. Just another tick to make him seem real.

“I would not say I have it ‘all figured out’,” He replied, quoting Gavin stiffly, “But I have run several computations and I’ve reached some conclusions.”

Gavin let out a snort. “Well keep ‘em to yourself. I’m not interested.”

The android stared at him. Not that it was ever not staring.

“I must say I am curious as to yours,” He said after a moment’s pause. “If you have formed any conclusions, that is.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Gavin said, his anger mounting. “You wanna compare notes so bad? Fine.” So he didn’t have to suffer the android’s presence, he turned back to the body. “She was killed here, not dumped, amount of blood proves that. Place is supposed to be empty, so she might’ve been lured here. Looks like they stabbed her with something blunt right in the chest, _pop_ ,” He popped his lips for effect, “They subdued her, coulda knocked her out, because she was still alive when they cut off her arms and legs. She’d already died by the time they got to her head.” He surveyed the rest of the room, not finding anything of interest. No furniture, no photos, not even graffiti.

“Why do you think they cut off her extremities?” The android asked.

Maybe it was the early hour, but he answered without thinking about it. “If this was twenty, thirty years ago, I’d think they were trying to hide her identity. No fingerprints, no facial ID, no dental records. Except just about everybody’s got their DNA registered somewhere. Trying to get rid of their own DNA would account for the missing hands and head if she fought back, maybe bit them, but not for the feet. So I’m leaning towards a sick fuck who wanted to keep trophies.”

The air settled after his grim pronouncement, and the android spoke up. “You’re correct on many counts.” Gavin’s shoulders tensed; he was not going to like whatever came next. “My analysis of her blood revealed a sedative in her system, administered at least an hour prior to her death. I believe her assailant drugged her first and then brought her here. First they used a flathead screwdriver to stab her chest approximately 10 times. Then they proceeded to dismember the victim with a saw-like tool. This would have taken less than 15 minutes. There are trace amounts of blood on the front door jam to indicate the assailant left the way they came in.”

Gavin said, “You know I would have gotten all that from the CSI report and the ME?”

“Those reports would not be finished for another few hours. This way you got the information in real-time.” There wasn’t really any arguing with that. It was all perfectly logical. Still, he wouldn’t let the android’s assessment hold any weight until he read the actual expert’s reports.

Gavin cast his eyes around the floor. “No footprints. They were careful not to step in it. Unless you see traces of that too?”

The android swept his brown eyes over the room, mimicking Gavin. “No, you are correct, Detective. They were meticulous.”

“Mechanical,” Gavin mused aloud.

Quicker than he could blink, the android’s eyes fixed onto his. “You suspect an android? I don’t see how the evidence supports that assumption.”

Gavin shrugged flippantly, enjoying how the android seemed to twitch in irritation. “Can’t see how it doesn’t.” The LED on his temple was pulsing yellow. “You guys got your freedom, you’re equal beings now, am I right? Means for all the good stuff, you’re gonna get some bad stuff. We know androids can kill of their own free will, why shouldn’t we suspect you?”

“The incidents you are referring to were moments when the androids snapped and broke their programming. We’ve seen no evidence that an android has committed premeditated murder.”

Gavin raised his eyebrows. “Only a matter of time. It’s a brave new world, after all.”

The android let out a strange huff of breath. Strange because it didn’t need to breathe. “You are letting your obvious prejudice sway your thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” Gavin cocked his head, hearing a joint pop. Then… “I’ve got a question for you, smartass. Why cut through her arms and legs?”

“I’m less inclined to your trophy hypothesis, the motive is unknown at this time.”

“No, dipshit, I mean,” Gavin lifted his hand and flexed his fingers, “It’s easier to cut off a finger than a hand,” He flexed his wrist up and down, “Easier to chop a hand than the forearm.”

The android’s gaze was fixed on his moving hand. “It…” He stopped, LED glowing yellow. “Human joints are more easily cut through.” He said it like a revelation.

“Yeah, human joints,” Gavin said, feeling smug as his thoughts came together. “Thing is, I do know a little about busted up robots,” the android made a sound, a bit like a cough, and Gavin threw back his head, “Right, right, that’s a bad word nowadays. Like I was saying…”

“You know about broken androids,” he repeated with a hint of accusation. Or maybe Gavin was reading into that.

He nodded his chin at the android. “Gimme your hand.”

“Detective, I’m flattered, but we are at a crime scene.” The bastard thought he was so funny. Who’d bothered programming in that ironic humor? Could Gavin find them and punch them in the face?

Instead of snarking back, Gavin stayed firm, bolstered by knowing he was onto something. “You know what I’m getting at.”

The android dropped his gaze with a flutter of his eyelashes. Suddenly Gavin had the mental image of some technician sticking them on with tweezers. Gross. Then he put one hand on his other arm, right above the wrist. Closing his eyes, he stood there for a moment not moving, and then there was a hiss. Then a pop. Then the android was standing holding his detached hand out for Gavin to take. It was that strange white reflective color, not covered by the illusion of skin. Gavin stepped closer and took it, its weight unsettling, and crouched back down. He lined up the fake hand above where the victim’s wrist would be.

“What d’ya know,” He said, “It’s a perfect fit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this before I could think better of it. I'm not sure when I'll post anymore, I'll try to have most of it written before I post another chapter. Really I'm testing the waters to see if anyone reads Connor/Gavin, just because I fell in love hard and fast doesn't mean anyone else is still reading. Comment if you are!


	2. Chapter 2

[2039.04.15 // 07:01AM]

He was late. This was regrettable, Connor mused as he entered the Detroit Police Station. He exchanged a nod with the young woman on reception [Sarah Wilson, age 24, enrolled in undergraduate criminology courses at Michigan State, working part-time after the ST300 left to pursue a career in acting]. He hoped she did not note his lapse.

Connor had experienced discomfort that morning. The house felt empty without Hank. He had walked Sumo around the neighborhood to alleviate the discomfort and had indulged the dog approximately 8 minutes too long.

It was only last night that Hank was joking down the phone line, “Can’t hack it without me, kid?” At the time, Connor had responded sarcastically, but after a fitful sleep cycle interrupted by the Dispatch call… Perhaps he should not have been so flippant. This was the first time Connor and Hank had been apart for an extended period since he deviated. Although Hank would return from the DC Red Ice conference in two weeks, Connor felt a restlessness in his absence. Logically, Connor knew this indicated precisely that they should practice spending more time apart, lest they become co-dependent. Emotionally, he disagreed.

Connor was also not pleased to be working with Detective Reed. Perhaps he had purposefully dragged his feet in getting ready for the day. There had been no more instances of physical altercation with the Detective, but their verbal sparring had become a tiresome part of his daily routine. He was honestly surprised with how civil the Detective had been earlier that morning.

As Connor entered the bullpen [idiom: large open work area consisting of desks with no separating walls, dating back to the mid-20th century] he scanned the area out of habit. Hank’s desk was vacant and orderly and it disturbed him to see it. Officers Miller, Chen, and Lewis were clustered around the former’s desk, all holding steaming hot cups of coffee, a box of donuts open between them [Tie-Dye-Donuts, a shop that Officer Lewis frequented often]. After processing the harmonious scene, Connor walked over to join them.

Officer Chen noticed his approach first and he caught a micro-expression of tension around her eyes before she smiled widely. “Morning, Connor,” She greeted him warmly. The other officers looked over at him. Officer Lewis grabbed a donut and left without a word. Connor watched him go for a moment, tracking his hasty strides, then fixed his attention on Officer Miller.

“Officer,” He greeted, “I’m surprised to see you in the office today. You worked very early this morning on a distressing crime scene.”

“Yeah, Chris,” Officer Chen said, her voice light and teasing, “I heard you nearly puked.”

Officer Miller took that with good grace, smiling back at her, and said, “You wouldn’t be laughing if you’d been there. That was…” He trailed off mid-sentence. Officer Chen gently nudged the donut box closer to him.

“Come on, eat your carbs,” She said, “Nothing this cop staple can’t fix.”

Connor had a sudden spike of envy that he could not partake in coffee and donuts.

“I appreciate your hard work this morning,” Connor told Officer Miller, “I look forward to reading your report.”

“Oh yeah, should have that to you within the hour,” Officer Miller replied. Connor nodded his head at both the officers in farewell and moved around them to his desk.

In the nearly six months he had been with the DPD, Connor had chosen to decorate his desk thusly: he had a potted _ficus ginseng_ , a framed photo of Sumo panting in a way that mimicked a grin, a framed photo of him and Hank celebrating Christmas, and several print outs of articles detailing his involvement with the revolution. It was not as cluttered or decorative as some of his colleagues’ but Connor was happy with this progress.

Sitting in his standard issue desk chair, Connor raised his hand, allowed the artificial skin covering to recede, and interfaced with his terminal. The screen illuminated and, faster than a human could type, he pulled up the case file on their recent homicide. It took a moment’s thought to upload a write up of his analysis.

While he expected the file to be sparse, perhaps only with the preliminary CSU report, he was surprised to see Detective Reed's incident report already submitted. Connor checked the timestamp.

[06:12AM]

Had Detective Reed come into the station after they parted ways at the crime scene? Assuming light traffic and accounting for average writing composition speed, it would have been impossible for Detective Reed to return home and still finish writing his report. Strange. Hank openly despised paperwork and Connor had extrapolated that to a common human trait. This might have been an error.

Connor raised his head and scanned the room for Detective Reed. His desk was empty, but there was a new ringed coffee stain, suggesting his recent presence. Breakroom, negative. Ah, Connor could see Detective Reed sitting in profile in Captain Fowler’s office. He was leaning back in his chair, apparently at ease, with Captain Fowler mirroring his position. They seemed to be speaking amicably. Not ‘having words’, as he had phrased it earlier.

Curious, Connor opened the file and processed it quickly.

_At 3:15 AM, Dispatch received a 911 call regarding a disturbance at 1717 Bradbury St. The caller stated that they heard a loud noise coming from an abandoned house. The caller disconnected when asked their name._

_R/O Officer C. Miller was dispatched and secured the scene at 3:30 AM. He noted that the front door was open and inside the front room he saw the presence of a body and a large amount of blood. R/O contacted Dispatch to report and requested backup. A CSU team was notified and responded, as well as the coroner._

_R/I Detective G. Reed (myself) was assigned and proceeded directly to the scene upon being alerted by Dispatch. R/I arrived at the scene at 3:45 AM and found that R/O had secured the area. R/I proceeded inside the front room and conducted a preliminary inspection of the scene._

_In the center of the room, R/I observed a lifeless human body, most likely female, lying supine on the floor. Cursory visual inspection indicated that her head, hands, and feet had been removed from the scene, most likely by the perpetrator. She was nude, her limbs splayed out at 45 degree angles. There were no signs of injury other than the dismemberment and a puncture wound to her sternum. There was blood pooled beneath her upper torso and extending from each of the missing extremities._

Connor read the rest of the report with fascination. It was impeccably written down to minute details, except for one thing; it deliberately excluded Connor. There was no mention of Connor himself as the secondary responding investigator, nor the findings he had shared with Reed, nothing to suggest he had been there at all.

[Internal heat rising to 97.0 degrees]

Like he was invisible.

[Internal heat rising to 97.3 degrees]

Or a piece of furniture.

[Internal heat rising to 97.6 degrees]

Connor looked through the glass walls to see Detective Reed leaning forward in his seat. He had his hands out, palms up, in a gesture Connor would describe as beseeching, a strained expression on his face.

[Identifying phonemes]

His optical sensors provided captions for the movement of Detective Reed’s lips.

[ _-Gotta wonder, how’s the press gonna take the first depraved and premeditated murder committed by an android in history? And it’s being investigated by the android cop? You don’t think that’s gonna be a conflict of interest?_ ]

Connor couldn’t make out the Captain’s response, a light reflection obscured his mouth, so he kept his gaze on the Detective.

[ _-Hey, Captain, haven’t I done everything you asked me to? I took the damn sensitivity course, me and the rest of the department, but you haven’t given anyone as hard a time as me. Hell, Anderson-_ ]

Presumably the Captain interrupted. Detective Reed hung his head, accentuating the dark circles beneath his eyes, and it was harder to read his lips as he mumbled.

[ _-I know, sir. Yes. But if he hinders my investigation-_ ]

The Captain interrupted again, and then both men stood up, and Connor quickly blinked caption-mode off. As Detective Reed pushed open the glass door, Connor crossed the room towards him. Their eyes caught on each other’s, and the side of the Detective’s mouth quirked up, a smirk.

[Unshaven, same clothes since last seen at 04:58AM, supports hypothesis that Detective Reed did not go home]

“Your turn,” the Detective muttered as they passed each other, pitched so that only Connor would hear. Connor did not respond.

“Captain,” Connor greeted neutrally once he entered the office, “I would like to request a different partner for the Dianne Lewis investigation.”

Captain Fowler let out a strange sound Connor would classify between a sigh and a hiss. “Isn’t there one goddamn person in this precinct who just follows my orders?”

Connor scanned the seat Detective Reed had occupied and decided to remain standing. “I mean no disrespect, sir,” He said, clasping his hands behind his back, “But I find Detective Reed’s conduct abrasive and detrimental to my optimal performance. I am aware that he feels similarly about me. I believe the easiest and most harmonious course of action would be to separate us.”

Captain Fowler tilted his head back, glancing upwards, the way humans did when they prayed. “But let me guess, you wanna keep the Lewis case?”

Connor nodded. “Detective Reed has already formed a hypothesis based on his own prejudice against androids. He should not be permitted to investigate this sensitive case.”

“That’s funny, he said the same thing about you,” said Fowler, though Connor sensed no amusement. He opened his mouth to argue further, but closed it as the Captain spoke loudly over him. “The thing is, Connor, you can’t just sit around with your thumb up your ass ‘til Anderson gets back.” [Idiom: spending time idle]. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are no detectives who want to partner with you.” No, Connor hadn’t noticed. He knew he was closest to the Lieutenant and a few of the Officers, but he had not realized the discrepancy that there were no Detectives among his acquaintances. Fowler may have seen this realization play out over his face, because he gentled his tone. “Yeah, well, you’re not alone in that. No one wants to partner with Reed either. So, you ugly ducklings get each other.” [Idiom: a children’s story about an adopted outsider suffering abuse from its peers who later matures into a more aesthetically pleasing version of itself].

“I am not a swan,” Connor declared, “I am a being with rights and dignity. If Detective Reed behaves inappropriately with me—”

“Take it up with HR,” Captain Fowler said, then faltered, looking puzzled. “I guess that needs a new name now. Personnel Resources? Sure.” Then, refocusing his attention on Connor, Fowler added, “Give the guy a chance. He may be an asshole but he’s a good cop.”

Connor blinked, evaluating. [Chance of persuasion: Negligible].

“I shall do my best. Thank you, Captain.” With a slight incline of his head, Connor turned his back on the Captain and left his office.

Detective Reed was leaning against Connor’s desk. Connor noted this caused him irritation. The irksome feeling only grew when he saw the Detective was running his fingers over the top of one of his photos.

Connor announced himself by saying, “Please don’t touch my things.” Detective Reed glanced up, and that smirk returned to his lips, and Connor found his annoyance rising even further. Slowly Detective Reed removed his hand from hovering over Connor’s desk.

Somehow he said, “Sorry,” without being remotely sincere. He sounded pleased in some way to have elicited a negative response in Connor. That was in itself irritating.

“I read your report on the crime scene,” Connor told him brusquely. “You omitted any of my contributions. I assume this was purposeful.”

Detective Reed, still smirking, allowed himself a long moment to just look at Connor without answering. Finally, he shrugged apathetically, and said, “It was my report. I only included the facts I could verify. You write your report, we see how it compares to CSU’s.”

“I already finished my report. You’re welcome to verify it, Detective Reed, if you doubt my conclusions.”

Letting out a sharp bark of laughter, Detective Reed shook his head. “Quit calling me ‘Detective’, we’re equal rank after all.” It was remarkable how he could say things that coming from anyone else would sound positive, and yet when he said them they were obviously scornful.

Testing his reaction, Connor said, “Gavin,” and the Detective’s smirk dropped, his facial muscles tensing.

“Reed,” he corrected him harshly. “We’re not buddies.”

“Well, I imagine it would be confusing for you to address me as Anderson,” said Connor, enjoying a tick in the man’s jaw, “So you may call me Connor.”

Reed pushed himself off Connor’s desk, grumbling over his shoulder, “Whatever.” Connor watched as Reed strode to his own desk, picked up his leather jacket off the back of his chair, pocketed his keys, and walked off towards the main exit. He was nearly around the corner when he stopped, tipped his head back, and turned to glare at Connor. With a jolt, Connor realized he must have missed a nonverbal cue. With some... [searching emotional vocabulary]... chagrin, Connor hurried to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting every monday from now on! So far I have about 12 chapters but I know this story will end up being longer. So you're in for a ride!


	3. Chapter 3

The car hummed beneath his feet, through the steering wheel into his hands, and Gavin let out a breath of tension. Tension because the plastic prick was riding shotgun. He was staring straight ahead, balancing that dumb coin on his finger, rolling it across his knuckles. Just as blank and inhuman as he looked in any other situation. Before pulling out, Gavin stabbed at the radio, turning it to a classic rock station.

Except, as he maneuvered out onto the road, the android, Connor, spoke over the tunes. “You and Hank share an affinity for driving yourselves.”

_Don’t compare me to your burnt-out boozer dad_ , Gavin thought. “Hm,” He grunted in reply. Wow, who knew he had self-control. He pointedly turned up the volume.

_...CAUSE I’M MISTER BRIGHTSIDE..._

Ken doll did not take the hint. “Hank also had misguided feelings of anger towards androids. It surprises me that you don’t get along better.”

Gavin thumped his palm against the wheel. “Maybe if Anderson had closed a fucking case in the last three years, we coulda had something to chat about ‘round the watercooler.” There went that fleeting moment of restraint.

“Hank and I—”

“Oh no,” laughed Gavin, bitterly, “You can’t count cases you’ve worked. Pair the greenest rookie with a supercomputer, he’s bound to crack something.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught Connor scrutinizing him. Gavin raised one eyebrow, the one Connor was facing, and waited for whatever the android came up with.

“Hank was a skilled and decorated Lieutenant before we became partners. He was invited to the Joint Task Force on Red Ice in DC on his own merit.”

“Don’t fucking lecture me on Anderson, I’ve been working with the drunk since before you were, well, manufactured.”

“Hank is a month sober.” For the first time since he’d entered the car, Connor sounded ticked off. Gavin could just barely catch a reflection in the passenger window of the yellow LED.

He smiled out the windshield, grimly satisfied. “Bet you said that last month.” Oh yeah, that was a nerve. He saw that chiseled jawline flex with anger and then Connor turned his stare out the window. Maybe now he’d get some quiet.

Except then his phone rang.

“God-fucking-damn,” he grumbled as he fished out his cell. ID said Station, so Gavin tossed it at Connor. The android snatched it out of the air, then looked surprised to see the phone in his hand. “Answer it, asshole, I’m driving. Put it on speaker.” Finally the android seemed to understand what he needed to do. Connor accepted the call and awkwardly held up the phone. Gavin shut off the music.

“Reed?” A semi-familiar voice came down the line. One of the officers… Kathy? Katie?

He answered, leaning slightly closer, “Yeah, what d’ya got for me?”

“You were right about the foreclosure being recent. The bank seized the house two weeks ago from a young couple, Sydnee and Tori Moynahan. Both of them used to work for Cyberlife before, uh, everything. Wife was a technician and her partner was in marketing.”

“Gotcha, any last known?”

“Records indicate they moved out of Detroit right before the foreclosure.”

“Then they’re probably a dead-end, but I’ll get Miller to chase down their alibis. Thanks.” Gavin cut a glance to Connor and after a beat the android ended the call. Gavin settled back into his seat, checked the GPS, and let Connor stew.

He didn’t boil over like Gavin hoped, just stated impassively, “You had a suspicion about the abandoned house that you didn’t share with me.”

Not that he needed to explain himself, but, “Thought of it this morning. You snooze, you lose.”

“What evidence was this hypothesis based on?”

“Abandoned houses are easy pickings for squatters and vandals. Our place was clean, relatively speaking.” Gavin shrugged one shoulder. “Like I said, probably a dead end. Two weeks is enough time for our perp to notice the house is empty, but could be they knew about the foreclosure personally.”

  
Connor nodded his head slowly, as though he was still deciding what to feel about all that. Or maybe he was ‘processing’. Thankfully, whatever was going on, Connor fell silent, and Gavin drove in peace.

Sort of.

It took him about ten minutes before he realized what was bothering him. Connor had a smell. Not a bad one, actually far from it. Slowly the scent of hair mousse, laundry detergent, and something he couldn’t place but made him think of old coins, slightly metallic, closed around him in the enclosed space. It was weird; you expected people to have a smell, all sweat and pheromones, and you even learned to love certain people’s scent. But Connor wasn’t… He didn’t sweat. So the fact that Gavin could now place a ‘Connor smell’ felt wrong. He shifted uneasily. Thought about opening a window, but… well, it was a nice smell, even if it creeped him out to notice.

What could’ve been minutes or hours went by, and they were parking outside an apartment block. Gavin stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut, surveying the neighborhood. Kinda dingy, low-income, residential. There was one corner store across the street and a laundromat, but other than that it was boarded-up storefronts and apartments.

“Am I allowed to ask what we’re doing here?” Came Connor’s snarky voice. Good, he preferred when the android was trying to be funny, at least then he wasn’t just the crime fighting supermachine.

Gavin hooked a thumb at the apartments’ door. “Victim’s place.” Without bothering to explain further, he walked up to the door, and rang a random buzzer. No answer. Okay. There were about two dozen buttons and Gavin went down the line pressing each one until a hint of static came through the intercom. There was a small pinhole camera which Gavin held his badge up to lazily. The door clicked. He pushed it open.

As Connor followed behind, he asked, “Has anyone ever accused you of being personable?”

“Shut up,” Gavin snapped without much heat. He forwent the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. Their victim lived in 4G, it was easy enough to find, just another painted black door down a concrete corridor. Gavin knocked sharply three times.

Connor supplied, “Her lease says Ms. Lewis lived alone.”

“Great.” He lifted his leg and kicked. The door flew open with a crack. From behind him, he heard Connor fake a sigh. Ignoring the android, Gavin entered the apartment, casting his gaze around. His hand fell naturally to his holster.

A hallway, decorated with framed photos, stretched out ahead of them. The photos featured a blonde woman and an older couple he could deduce were her parents. There was a coat rack and shoes lined up near the door, all fitting a petite woman. A single child, unmarried, living alone, couldn’t have weighed more than 130lbs. An easy target.

Gavin moved cautiously down the hall. One door on the right, he threw it open, finding only a household closet. The hall seemed to open up into a living space, and Gavin paused, glancing back at Conner. The android adjusted his position against the opposite wall. Seeing he was ready, Gavin twisted around the corner, scanning the room. Empty. A classic sitting area with a tv and couch. There was a kitchen he could see through a cut out window, also empty, connected by a swinging door. He could see a bathroom, dark, though an ajar door, and a closed room, presumably the bedroom. Gavin nodded his chin at the kitchen, Connor silently agreeing, and they split up. It took three seconds for Gavin to confirm the bathroom was empty. He outstretched his hand to turn the bedroom doorknob.

“Re—” the syllable was cut off by an echoing metallic clang. In one smooth motion, Gavin pulled out his gun and turned and flattened his back against the wall. Adrenaline let him process the scene in slow motion. By the now open kitchen, a tall brown-skinned man gripped a skillet by the handle, towering over Connor, pulling back his arm to swing again.

“Freeze,” Gavin shouted on instinct, “DPD!” The man looked up wildly. Gavin’s finger twitched minutely. But he made no advance. “Drop your weapon! Now!” A tense second went by. Then the skillet clattered to the ground. Gavin took a step forward. “On your knees, hands on your head, fucking now, asshole!” Shaking, the man complied, putting his hands atop his wild curls and dropping to the ground. Without taking his eyes off the suspect, Gavin asked, “Connor?”

“I’m alright,” The android answered, his voice off-pitch, oddly mechanical in tone. “The damage was superficial. I am already self-repairing.”

Gavin unhooked his handcuffs and tossed them Connor’s way. Again the android caught them out of the air. “Cuff him,” he directed, “I’ve got him covered.”

The man on the ground stuttered out, “I-I-I’m s-sorry, I-I thought y-you were burglars.” In his periphery, Connor struggled to sit up. His balance looked off. His face was twitching. Something was wrong.

“You’ll have plenty of time to explain at the station,” Gavin told him, stalling, holding his attention. “You’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer.”

“No, please,” the man grovelled, his face the perfect picture of fear, “It was a mistake!” Thankfully Connor managed to get himself upright and crawled on his knees towards their suspect.

Gavin said, a little calmer, “You can also tell us what you’re doing in Dianne Lewis’ apartment.”

“W-what?” Their guy sputtered as Connor grabbed his hands.

Connor said, “Detective—”

Before he could go on, the suspect asked, “Did something happen to Dianne?”

“You could say that,” retorted Gavin, “What’s it to you?”

The man looked up at him with wide brown eyes as Connor finally got the cuffs on him. “She’s my fianceé.”

“Reed,” Connor succeeded in saying, before that bombshell could even sink in, “He’s an android.”

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Gavin, he thinks he's executive produced by Dick Wolf, not in a slow burn fanfic...
> 
> Have you got any theories on the case yet? Let me know! And tune in every Monday for more!


	4. Chapter 4

[2039.04.15 // 09:42AM]

[Equilibrium: 88 percent operational]

Connor gave his head an experimental shake and the surrounding walls seemed to wobble. While the damage to his dermal layer had taken minutes to repair, it seemed some of his internal processors required longer. The equivalent of his inner ear must have taken the brunt of the hit. He hoped the component would not need replacing. He resolved to order the part if his condition did not improve by the end of the workday.

“Hey.” Connor turned his head quickly at the voice. Too quickly. He blinked rapidly as his vision blurred and coalesced.

Reed hesitated in entering the observation room, the door closing slowly behind him, regarding Connor with narrowed eyes. He found he was surprised the greeting hadn’t been accompanied by an insult. Reed dipped his head, his gaze traveling down Connor’s body, then up again. 

“You, uh,” said Reed, oddly quiet, “You functional, or whatever?”

Deciding it was not worth mentioning his equilibrium concern, Connor answered, “Yes, I’m fine. I appreciate your quick reaction time.”

Unpredictably, his compliment earned him a roll of the eyes from Reed. “It’s my damn job,” he muttered, angling his body to face the one-way mirror. Connor elected to mimic his action.

Their suspect sat handcuffed to the table in the interrogation room. MP500, an older household assistant model, #413 862 741, who identified himself as Sasha. He was visibly agitated, shifting position regularly, darting glances at the mirror. 

“You wanna take this?” asked Reed, surprising Connor once more. He glanced over at the Detective, and after a second, Reed met his questioning gaze. He huffed. “Probably be more comfortable talking to another android. See if you can’t drill down on this fianceé story. I don’t buy it.”

“Androids are capable of romantic relationships,” said Connor.

“Sure, sure, with each other. I’ve seen the freaky Vulcan hand thing on tv.” Connor felt… [searching emotional vocabulary]... indignant on behalf of android couples, like that of his friends Markus and North. Reed lifted his chin in the face of whatever expression Connor wore. “But that’s a red-blooded woman, and this guy ain’t a Traci, so why’s he saying they were together?”

Somewhat baffled, Connor said, “There is more to relationships than sex, Reed.” For some reason, Reed laughed.

“I think I’m a little more informed on this than you,” Reed rolled his neck to lazily grin at Connor. “You’re a virgin, who can’t drive.”

[Idiom: ...Internal heat rising to 97.5 degrees… reference to classic film...]

His speech prompts failed him. He couldn’t think of a retort. With embarrassingly jerky movements, Connor stepped around Reed towards the door.

As he went, Reed called, “Good luck,” in that infuriating sardonic way.

[Internal heat rising to 97.8 degrees]

Connor paused to collect himself outside the interrogation room. It was regrettable how skilled Reed was at eliciting negative emotions in him. It was one thing that the man seemed to take pride and pleasure in riling him up, what was worse was that he was successful. Connor didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and yet… like two compounds reacting in a solution, their reaction was inevitable. This was… not helpful to the case.

He pushed open the door, and the MP500 sat up as he entered. In a typical power move, Connor circled the table, moving behind the suspect, before sitting in the chair opposite him. He tapped on the tablet and pulled up the case file. His silence caused the android to squirm, his chain rattling against the metal table. First, he pulled up a photo CSU had taken from Dianne Lewis’ apartment of the woman alive at the shore of Lake Michigan, smiling as the wind ruffled her short blonde hair. Then…

“No,” the MP500 uttered in disbelief as he stared down at the crime scene photo, “No, no, no, that can’t be… that can’t be Dianne.”

Connor studied his reaction avidly. “I ran her DNA myself. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” the android clasped his cuffed hands together and bowed his head, “Let it be a mistake, please.”

[Stress level 61 percent, reduce to gain trust, 25 percent optimal]

“How long did you know Dianne?” Connor asked softly, tilting his head.

“She… she purchased me 10 months ago. I was her home assistant. I kept the apartment clean, cooked her meals, did her laundry, you know…”

“I see. So you were working for her before the revolution. Was she,” [estimated chance of success: high], “Kind to you?” The android, Sasha, raised his head with a look of wonder.

“Yes. She always thanked me when I completed a task. I know… a lot of humans aren’t like that.”

Thinking of Reed, Connor flashed a smile, and said, “I’m aware.”

[Stress level dropping… 52 percent]

“When the soldiers came for the androids, Dianne hid me. She lied to them and said she’d already scrapped me. She protected me.”

“She sounds like an extraordinary woman,” Connor said with a smile, and Sasha tentatively returned it. [Stress level dropping… 38 percent]. “Is that why you wanted to marry her?”

“Well, I,” Sasha looked away, shy, “She told me after things calmed down that I didn’t have to stay. I could go anywhere. But where would I go? She was all I’d ever known. And I… I wanted to look after her.”

“So when did your relationship become,” Connor paused significantly, “More?” Furtively, Sasha shot a glance at the mirror. He was uncomfortable. [Stress level rising... 43 percent]. Connor leaned forward, drawing his attention, and made his expression as open and earnest as possible. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. We only want to understand.”

[Stress level dropping… 27 percent]

“We were watching a movie together, two months ago. All of a sudden the actors kissed and I said I didn’t understand why. So she showed me. It was easy between us, natural. I know I was never programmed for… but we figured it out together. I…” Sasha stared determinedly into Connor’s eyes. “I love her.”

“Who proposed?”

“I did. Dianne was always getting criticism from her parents for not dating, not being married yet, not having kids. We’re in love and… well, that’s what you do, isn’t it? When you love someone you get married. She… she was so happy…”

Connor leaned back a little in his seat. He spoke neutrally, “Marriage between humans and androids is unprecedented. You weren’t afraid of what that would mean?”

“Dianne worked in the court system. She knew of a pro-android judge. She said, in a few months, when we were ready, we’d go to him for the license. It, we weren’t, we were going to be quiet about it, this was for us, not the movement.”

“As far as you know, she didn’t tell anyone about your relationship?”

Sasha shrugged. “I don’t know.”

[Stress level dropped too low, losing interest, reconsider approach]

“Where were you last night, Sasha?” Connor asked directly. The android gave a little jump at the question.

“I-I was at home.”

“With Dianne?”

“No,” he shook his head, his dark curls bouncing, “She called me at 7:14PM to say she was working late and that I didn’t have to make dinner. I watched tv until 10PM, but she wasn’t back yet, so I went to bed to power down. I thought she’d wake me when she got home. But she…” Attention fixed on the photo, Sasha shakily reached for the tablet. Smoothly Connor pulled it away.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Sasha,” he said and stood.

“Wait,” Sasha made an attempt to get up, but the chain holding his handcuffs forced him back down. Obliging him, Connor stopped and listened. “You think I killed her?” Sasha asked, his voice tremulous. Connor didn’t reply. “I swear by RA9 I could never hurt her. All I wanted was to make her happy.”

[Analyzing… maintaining eye contact, emotive voice, steady hands… Sincere]

Without speaking, Connor nodded, took the tablet, and walked from the room. As soon as he was out the door, Reed emerged from the observation room, and the two fell in step as they walked back to the bullpen.

“I like him for it,” said Reed, unprompted.

“I believe him,” said Connor.

Reed let out an irritating snort. “Typical.”

“He truly seems to love her,” Connor insisted as they came to a stop at Detective Reed’s desk. He sank into his desk chair and put up his feet, lolling back and smirking at Connor. Standing stiffly before him, Connor let out a breath, hoping to calm himself yet ready to argue.

“Why d’you do that?” Reed asked unexpectedly. Connor cocked his head, and Reed made a careless gesture with one hand. “The breathing and blinking and all that fake crap.”

Unbelievable. “Is this at all relevant to the case?”

Reed crossed his arms, seeming unbothered by Connor’s refusal to answer. “Okay, whatever. Let's set aside the android angle for a sec. We’ve got a guy with no alibi in some kind of relationship with our vic. He hid from us and hit you with a blunt object. How dead would I be if I’d taken the kitchen, not you?”

[Equilibrium: 89 percent operational]

“Your chance of survival would be 22 percent with almost certain brain damage.”

“I figured. If this was a human, it’d be open and shut.” Reed’s posture changed. Feet falling to the floor, he sat up and set his arms on the desk. Attempting to convince him. “He’s not though. He thinks he’s in love, sure, I won’t argue that. But let’s say he got his wires crossed. Love and hate are way too close for comfort.”

That made no sense. Connor said, “Reed, love is—” But a commotion in the reception area distracted them both. A raised hysterical voice was being placated by Sarah Wilson. Other officers were gauging the altercation, the general stress level of the station rising, and a few slowly edged towards reception. Gavin jumped to his feet and he and Connor approached the scene.

[Scanning…]

  
“Please, you need to cuff me,” a TR600 model argued with Ms. Wilson, “I’m a danger to myself and others.”

[TR600, female waitstaff, dressed in neat business clothes, in high level of distress]

“You’ve got to arrest me! I killed someone last night! I stabbed her in the chest and I cut off her hands and feet and, fuck, I _decapitated_ her!”

In three strides Connor crossed the distance and stood beside the TR600. “Excuse me,” he interrupted, drawing her attention away from the unsettled receptionist, “I’m Detective Connor Anderson. I understand you wish to make a statement.”

She looked at him with her green eyes wide and grateful. “Yes, thank RA9, you have to take me in. I need to confess. I’m a murderer!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, the thick plottens...
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think! And come back next Monday for more :)


	5. Chapter 5

Gavin sauntered into the interrogation room like he had no where better to be. Carelessly he tossed the tablet onto the table, which shuddered with a teeth-clenching metallic sound, and the android jolted, rearing back as far as her cuffs would allow. He slouched into the chair, leaning so it balanced on the back two legs, and grinned at the android.

“Lilly, was it?” He asked, and after a tense pause the android nodded. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Lilly. What were you before?” The question was common enough but just skirting the edge of offensive.

“I was a waitress,” answered Lilly, and Gavin noted absently that she was pretty, with her large green eyes, tall forehead, and swept back raven hair. Those Cyberlife artists sure were sick.

“How’d you survive the revolution?”

She blinked her long dark lashes. “I woke up when Markus marched through downtown, but I was too afraid to join him. I knew how humans could be.” Right, something he’d learned in the Android Sensitivity Seminar; customer-service androids rated high in resentment scores, only being beat by sex workers and ‘partner’ models.

“So… what? You got out of Detroit? Ran and hid ‘til it was all over?”

“No, I,” Lilly glanced away uneasily, “A lot of us went down into the sewers. The soldiers weren’t looking down there. It wasn’t habitable for humans.”

“Gotcha,” Gavin ran his hand over his scruffy chin. “How you been living now?”

“I’m a stenographer. I like typing.”

Interesting. “Civil court?”

Her brows drew together. “Yes.” Gavin nodded and cast a surreptitious glance at the mirror.

“OK, Lilly,” He leaned forward, the chair clattering as it righted itself, and she jumped again at the sound, “Let’s talk about last night.”

She let out a long breath. That wouldn’t stop being weird to Gavin. She shifted straighter in her seat, her silky hair falling over her shoulder.

“That woman,” Lilly began, so soft Gavin had to duck his head, “She was shouting at me. She called me a monster. I… I had a syringe, in my hand, and I plunged it into her arm. She went limp and I caught her and dragged her to a van. The van drove us to 1717 Bradburry. I carried her into the house and lay her on the floor. Her eyes were just… blank. I had a screwdriver and a knife in my belt and I pulled both out and lay them down. With the screwdriver I hit her in the chest, over and over, and she was bleeding so bad, I thought she might be dead. So I took the knife and I cut her left ankle. It was hard. She just kept bleeding. I had to really saw through. But it came off eventually. Then I cut her right ankle. I thought for sure… but when I got to her wrists, the blood spurted out so much, I knew she was still alive. It was… I stuffed the hands and feet in a black trash bag and then I cut off her head. Her eyes rolled back. When it was done I put that in the bag too. I got up, shouldered the bag, and I left. That’s all I can remember.”

There it was. Packaged all neat and pretty for them. Complete with details only the killer could know. But it didn’t sit right in Gavin’s gut. He got up from his chair, meandered to the mirror, smoothed back his hair, and then leaned against it.

“You said that’s all you remember. Why? Are you having trouble remembering last night?” She didn’t seem phased by the question; other than her hysterical display in the lobby she wasn’t showing much emotion at all. 

“I’m not sure how I got home. One minute I was leaving that house, the next I was in my living room. I must have changed clothes and powered down.”

Maybe for a human, that excuse might work. Androids were supposed to have perfect recall.

“How did you know this woman?”

“I don’t know. I just remember being in a dark alley and this woman was so angry with me.”

“Where was this?”

Again. “I don’t know.”

“Where did you get the syringe? What was in it?”

More insistent. “I don’t know.”

“Why did you kill her?”

She smacked her hands on the table and shouted, “I don’t know!” At last he was getting somewhere. Matching her energy, Gavin surged forward and towered over her.

“Then why the hell are you confessing?”

“Because I did it! I remember the feeling of hacking through her bones! I got drenched in her blood! Her eyes were watching me the whole time!”

“Did that scare you? Make you guilty?”

“No, I—I don’t know what I was feeling!”

“But you feel guilty enough to come in here and get arrested?”

“I’m dangerous!”

“Do you know Sasha?”

“Who? Was that—”

“You didn’t know Dianne?”

“No! Is that the woman I—”

“She called you a monster, but you don’t know who she is?”

“No, I don’t know why she—”

“Who told you about 1717 Bradbury?”

“No one, I don’t remember!”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not!”

“ _Reed!_ ”

Gavin whirled around to see Connor in the open doorway. He had his hand propping up the door and he was glaring at Gavin, his jaw tense, his LED yellow. Fury made Gavin clench his fists.

“I’m not done here,” he grit out, glaring right back.

Connor had the fucking nerve to say, “Yes, you are,” and gestured with his head for Gavin to leave. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He must be burning bright red. Without sparing the suspect a glance he barrelled towards Connor and gripped the front of his shirt. He propelled the both of them out the room and into the opposite wall. Connor, the fucking bastard, let it happen with little more than resignation on his face.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Gavin spat up at his stupid fucking face. He twisted his fingers in Connor’s collar and shook. “Never fucking interrupt me like that! Never!”

“Detective—”

“No, shut your goddamn mouth! You just fucking undermined me, you fucking piece of plastic!”

His LED flickered briefly to red and Connor’s eyes hardened with real anger. “You were going in circles. She had already confessed.”

“Her story’s full of holes!”

“She perfectly described the order of events as I calculated them. She knew about the syringe, the screwdriver, the serrated knife. She knew the order the extremities were cut. She clearly—”

“Someone’s feeding it to her,” Gavin insisted, breathing fast, inhaling Connor’s goddamn scent. That’s when he realized how close they were. Gavin had Connor pressed up against the wall, their bodies flush, Gavin’s eyes level with Connor’s mouth, which… his gaze sank to his pink lips. They didn’t look plastic. They looked soft. A little wet. It would be easy to…

Gavin wrenched himself away, releasing Connor with a push, backing up a few paces. Connor looked… like nothing happened. Mildly annoyed, shirt a little ruffled, he reached up and mechanically adjusted his tie.

“You still suspect Sasha,” Connor surmised, infuriatingly calm, his eyes so… goddamn, Gavin was losing it.

Gavin pointed at Connor and ordered, “Stay the fuck away from me, tin can,” but somehow it sounded to his ears more like a warning. He stalked away before he could do anything else damning. He didn’t hear Connor follow him for once. Good.

Gavin sat heavily at his desk and tapped his terminal with a bit too much force. He called up the case file, intending to write up his notes on the morning’s interrogations, but changed plans when he saw the ME’s report had come through. He opened and read it quickly. It confirmed a lot of what they already knew.

_Needle mark on her upper arm… Drugged with a tranquilizer, medical grade… Puncture wounds over sternum match a flathead screwdriver… severed tibia and fibula approximately three inches above the tarsus... severed ulna and radius of both arms approximately one and a half inches above the carpal bones… severed neck between the C5 and C6 vertebrae…_

Only new info was the time of death: roughly 2:45AM. She’d been dead a full half hour before the anonymous call about ‘a loud noise’ in that house. That clinched it for Gavin; the murder had called 911 themself.

Next he reviewed the CSU report, finding it also was annoyingly in line with Connor’s on site findings. Except the blood spatter analysis made a point to mention that it appeared a single individual had been leaning over the body. From those cuts on her wrists you’d expect a lot of high-velocity droplets, but they appeared to be blocked, in this instance, by her killer.

Putting aside their suspects. Someone drugged Dianne Lewis with medical grade tranquilizer, so they needed access to a hospital or lab. They transported her unconscious body to a house that was two weeks empty, so they may have needed a vehicle. They would have to be capable of carrying 130lbs of unsupported weight. In addition, they were carrying a screwdriver and a knife at the very least. Then, after dismembering the helpless Dianne, they removed her hands, feet, and head from the scene. They left without being detected and called 911 to ensure their work would be found.

“Sick fuck,” Gavin muttered to himself.

He typed up his impressions of both of their suspects. He could admit that neither were perfect. Sasha was basically a stay-at-home husband already, how would he get a tranquilizer, and what would he have done with the body parts. They’d performed a more thorough search of the apartment after detaining Sasha, there wasn’t any sign of bloody clothes or a severed head. So while he may have had motive if their twisted love affair got his wires in a knot… There wasn’t anything else to link him to the crime. And as for Lilly, he was adamant that her memory lapses were just too convenient. How could she know precise details like the address, but not have an explanation for where she got the syringe or where she’d met Dianne? And for someone who supposedly carried out a ruthless and efficient killing, devoid of emotion during the act, she sure felt guilty now. Could she be covering for someone? For Sasha? Or a yet unknown suspect?

When he finished his reports, Gavin got up to take a leak and refill his coffee. Tina was in the breakroom when he entered, speaking on the phone, so he nodded silently at her and went to the coffee pot.

“Last night? Are you sure?” His ears pricked up at her serious tone. As he poured some lukewarm coffee into a paper cup, he glanced over at her to find Tina already staring at him. “Yeah we had a grizzly one last night,” She was saying, her eyes fixed on him, “But that can’t be right… No, I believe you, Deckard… Hang on, the Detective on that case is right here, let me put you on speaker.” Gavin moved to her table and took a sip of his coffee as Tina set down her phone.

“Detective? This is Officer Pete Deckard,” greeted the man on the line.

“You’ve got Gavin Reed here. What’s your sitch?”

“I’m at the scene of a suicide, we’re locking it down now. This android beat his own head in with a hammer. Not so weird for an android, but see, we found this note by the body. Written in that font, you know? It says the guy offed himself because he couldn’t live with the memory of what he did last night.”

Gavin shared a look with Tina and said, “And what’s he claiming to have done?”

“It’s pretty graphic… _‘I can’t stop thinking about her eyes rolling as I cut off her head. I put her in the bag with the hands and feet. I was covered in her blood and I don’t even know why. How could I do that? I can’t trust myself.’_ Then a lot more blubbering about feeling guilty. Anyway, I thought I saw on the bulletin something about a hacked up corpse Central caught last night. Thought I’d check with Officer Chen, see if I couldn’t help clear this one for you.”

“Right,” muttered Gavin, mind seething with more questions than answers, “Well... thanks for that.”


	6. Chapter 6

[2039.04.21 // 6:22PM]

Six. Six days. Six new confessions.

[First confession: Lilly, TR600, turned herself in on 04.15. Second confession: Greg, KW500, turned himself in on 04.16. Third confession: Aiden, BV500, detained after disturbing the public, Reed extracted confession on 04.18. Fourth confession: Catherine, WE300, convinced to confess by girlfriend, a ST400, on 04.18. Fifth confession: Raja, ZT200, turned herself in on 04.19. Sixth confession: Fatima, KR400, confessed to a human friend who turned her in on 04.21. Seventh confession: Geoff, GT300, detained after attempting to breach 1717 Bradburry crime scene, Reed extracted confession on 04.21]

All confessions were essentially identical. They described being shouted at by Dianne Lewis, specifically called a ‘monster’, at which point they injected her with the tranquilizer they happened to have in their hand. They brought her to a nearby van which drove them to 1717 Bradbury. They carried her limp body inside and proceeded to stab her in the chest and dismember her. They followed the same order, left ankle, right ankle, right wrist, left wrist, and then her head. They left the scene covered in her blood… and the next thing they knew they were at home in clean clothes.

[Unverified confession: RZ200 model committed suicide on 04.15, suicide note included references to the Lewis murder.]

The situation was… puzzling. To say the least.

After the second confession, it became clear that all of their suspects were false. None of the androids had any clear connection to Dianne Lewis and could not explain how they ‘met’ her. Details such as where they got the van, syringe, or knife eluded them. They all insisted on acting alone.

Reed had released each android with the instruction not to leave town. He decided to prosecute Sasha on assaulting a police officer, which Connor felt was strange, given Reed’s negative feelings for Connor in general. He considered asking Reed if this meant he saw him as an equal person… but the chance of a favorable response was very low.

Connor disconnected his hand from his terminal, the skin shifting back into place, and blinked as he returned to his surroundings. Reviewing the evidence had produced no new insight. It was nearly time for him to go home. He experienced frustration that the case was not progressing, that in fact it only got more complicated the more androids came forward.

But if he was feeling frustrated…

A loud bang came from the gender neutral bathroom. Connor scanned the bullpen. Officer Person paused in packing up her desk, looking to the back room, then proceeded to walk quickly to the exit. Officer Lewis did not react as he was reading a magazine. Officer Miller and Officer Chen exchanged a look, then unanimously held up their fists. They shook _one, two, three,_ then Miller formed scissors and Chen rock.

“Damn,” muttered Officer Miller, pushing himself up from his chair.

Connor stood quicker and held up a hand. “No need, Officer Miller. I will investigate.”

“Uh,” Officer Miller sank back down and shot another look at Officer Chen, who inclined her head minutely, “Sure. Have at it.”

Connor started off towards the interrogation room, noting that it was empty. Good, no one would have reason to be in the vicinity. He hesitated outside the restroom door, then raised his fist to knock.

Reed’s harsh reply was, “Fuck off!” This didn’t deter him. It served as confirmation. Detective Reed was experiencing a high level of stress. He would function optimally if he could calm down. Achieving this would be difficult.

Formulating a plan of attack, Connor entered the restroom regardless. A cursory scan indicated the stalls were empty. Reed was hunched over a sink, his hair wet and sticking up, his breathing heavy. He’d stripped off his jacket and hoodie, all that was left was a black t-shirt with a band logo [a trapezoid with a crown and the letters F.O.B.] that accentuated his muscular physique. At Connor’s entrance, he glared at his reflection, his eyes dark.

[Internal heat rising to 97.9 degrees]

“Detective,” Connor began cautiously, “You appear to be in distress.”

[Chance of physical altercation: 50 percent]

“You don’t say, dipshit,” Reed said, surprisingly even, though his words still filled Connor with unease. He raised one hand to rake through his hair, messing it further. Connor swallowed. “Now why would I be in distress?” The Detective asked sardonically. He wasn’t looking directly at him, just Connor’s reflection, and it was unnerving. “Cause we just keep hitting walls? Cause we got too many suspects but none of them fit?” Suddenly he slammed his clenched fist down on the sink. The room seemed to shake.

“This is a perplexing case,” Connor agreed. He edged a step closer to the Detective. “We are both doing our best.”

That was not the correct thing to say. Reed rounded on him and stalked like a jungle cat to shove at his chest. Connor held himself still this time. He would not allow this interaction to be witnessed by their coworkers.

“Do you even give a damn about Dianne?” Reed hissed in his face, dropping his hands from Connor’s chest as if burned. “Or is she just a statistic to you?”

  
Unfair. “You know that I care. The loss of life is always a tragedy but her death was needlessly cruel.”

Reed seemed to react favorably to that. He retreated a step, glancing away.

“What am I missing?” He wondered aloud. He abruptly raised his leg and kicked at a stall door. It bounced loudly off the wall. Reed covered his face with both hands, dragging down his skin. “It’s got to be staring me in the face,” said Reed.

Connor thought over his words carefully before asking, “How have you been sleeping, Detective?”

“Don’t call me…” He said, then appeared to register the question. “What?”

“Have you been eating regular meals?”

“What, I need a caretaker ‘bot now?” Connor elected to ignore the partial slur.

“You cannot operate at peak efficiency if you allow your biological needs to suffer.”

“Ha,” Reed barked out a laugh, “I’m getting lectured on biological needs by the guy who doesn’t eat, sleep, or fuck. Why don’t you stay in your own fucking lane?”

[Internal heat rising to 98.1 degrees]

“Actually, I am able to filter liquids I consume, I experience power down cycles comparable to REM, and,” [Inappropriate for workplace, stop talking, do not say] “I was installed with the same sexual components as the Traci HR400 models.” He should not have divulged that. Connor felt his thirium rise to his dermal layer in an effort to cool his steadily rising core temperature.

[Internal heat rising to 98.4 degrees]

Reed was staring at him with an expression Connor could not discern. Finally he spoke slowly, almost a drawl, “Now why the fuck would the perverts at Cyberlife make you like that?”

This was not going according to plan.

“You should take better care of yourself, Reed. You are an asset to this investigation that I would not like to see misused.”

A long moment passed in quiet standoff. 

Then… “I’m…” Reed shook his head, said, “I’m out of here,” and roughly shouldered past Connor.

“Good,” Connor said as he passed, “Go home, Detective.”

That made his footfall stop, and Connor could only run a quick computation [Chance of physical altercation: 98 percent] before a fist slammed into the side of his head. It was the shock that sent him careening into the sinks [superficial damage to left hip] and kept him from reacting beyond throwing up his hands. He deflected Reed’s next blow with his right forearm, briefly considered punching back, but opted instead to grab Reed around his middle. They teetered off-balance for a second before toppling to the floor. Reed let out a hard breath as he landed on his back and Connor wasted no time in straddling him.

Reed struggled to sit up and spat, “Patronizing plastic prick!”

Connor secured him by the wrists and forced his arms to the floor. “Impressive alliteration,” he remarked dryly. He felt the Detective brace his feet on the ground and buck his hips in an attempt to flip their positions, but Connor was stronger than him by a factor of 4.75, so he only succeeded in bringing their groins together for a long moment [3.2 seconds]. Reed slumped to the ground and glared passionately up at him.

He said, “Get off me,” in a way Connor didn’t expect. It didn’t sound like when Reed said ‘fuck off’, all harsh and demanding; rather he sounded like he doubted Connor would comply. Strange. He had to know Connor would not permanently harm him. They may not like each other, but Connor wouldn’t…

[Scanning… pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, heart rate elevated, breathing shallowly… Possible causes… Fear… Arousal… Humiliation...]

Whatever Reed was experiencing, it suddenly felt wrong to be dominating him in such a manner. Although he had acted in self-defense, Connor knew he had provoked this encounter. He’d entered the restroom with a non-negligible probability of violence. Why had he insisted on pressing the Detective? Did he need to get the last word in that badly?

In an effort to mask his conflicted feelings, Connor asked, “Will you refrain from hitting me if I let you up?”

With his voice rough like gravel, Reed mumbled, “Yeah, fucking, fine.”

Gingerly Connor released his wrists and got to his feet. He stepped carefully over the man. Reed lay still for a moment, and Connor wondered if he ought to do more, so he extended his hand. Glancing at it, Reed huffed, then clambered up without Connor’s help. He brushed his hands roughly down his shirt. Connor considered mentioning the areas of his clothes that had become contaminated by the dirty floor, or advising him to change, but that inspired a surge of guilt, and Connor couldn’t make the words come.

“Shoulda learned my lesson the first time,” said Reed, just loud enough Connor assumed he was meant to hear it. He was keeping his gaze down, avoiding Connor’s eyes, leaning almost imperceptibly away from him. It took him a moment too long to interpret Reed’s statement. Oh, right.

Connor clasped his hands behind his back and tried his best to appear non-threatening. “Our altercation in the archive room was regrettable. I was in desperate circumstances. You were following protocol in attempting to apprehend me. Our missions simply conflicted.”

That caused Reed to look at him, his expression oddly confused. “I woulda shot you, tin can,” Reed told him, as if he were missing something obvious, “You didn’t even break a bone taking me down.”

“There was no need to damage you,” Connor replied, now also feeling confused.

“Yeah, but I…” Reed shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m bothering. Let’s just… Forget this ever happened.” He moved again to the door, this time edging carefully around Connor, and he turned to watch Reed exit the restroom. Pausing to examine his reflection, Connor adjusted his jacket and fixed his tie. Then he exited the room as well.

He wondered, as he observed the Detective donning his jacket and readying to leave, why he felt… dissatisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you got any theories yet? Are there any scenes you'd like to see? Are things between Gavin and Connor moving too fast or too slow?
> 
> Let me know your thoughts! I'm dying for your feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

So much for sleep.

As he broke through the holographic police tape, Gavin had a vague feeling of nostalgia for something he never experienced; the way cops in old tv shows and films had to lift the solid tape over their heads. It looked way cooler. Probably just another sign he wanted to be a detective for all the wrong reasons.

Tina was one of the officers outside the house, her eyes on the crowd; it was just after 8:30PM, folks who’d been washing up after dinner had wandered outside as the police descended on their block. As he walked by, he patted her on the shoulder. She turned to him, her face pale and drawn.

“Anything I should know?” He asked, leaning down so he could whisper.

“Connor’s in there already,” She replied quietly, “He’s got all the info. I’m just… Thinking of ways to make it up to Chris.”

“Right, it’s grizzly,” Gavin said, but his mind was already moving on.

Connor. Their weird encounter in the bathroom. Pinned effortlessly to the floor with his surprisingly warm body pressing down on him. Obviously, Reed got hard, because he hadn't gotten laid in months so he’s lusting after plastic like one of those Eden Club perverts. That wasn’t especially weird, pathetic sure, but not weird. No, what was weird was Connor’s earnest concern for his well being and that last thing he said, about their fight in the archive… _There was no need to damage you_. Like he didn’t get that, well… there hadn’t been a need for Gavin to damage him either, but that hadn’t stopped him from looking forward to it, wanting to cause pain to something that couldn’t even feel.

That was the real difference between them, Gavin had realized, more than the color of their blood. Connor didn’t have a malicious bone, uh, wire in his body. And Gavin was his father’s temper wrapped up in toxic cliches.

Fuck. He’d hoped for a little more time to repress that revelation. No luck.

Stepping through the open door, Gavin saw the android crouched and leaning over an eerily familiar sight; a headless torso, limbs spread, missing her hands and feet, lying in a puddle of blood. The CSU team was already there, spread out and taking photos. The room was fairly empty except for a fireplace and some crushed up cardboard boxes laid out along one wall. As Gavin approached, Connor looked up, his mouth curving slightly.

“Hello, Reed,” He greeted, and Gavin’s stomach twisted.

He nodded at the body and said, “Deja vu, huh?”

“They are similar cases, yes,” said Connor neutrally.

“No 911 call this time?”

“No, it’s possible the killer didn’t have a chance. This house may be abandoned, but the neighborhood is more populated. At 7:50PM, a patrol car saw the open door and decided to investigate. They found her quickly. She’s not yet in rigor mortis, she’s still above the ambient temperature, I estimate she was killed within the last hour.”

“Gotcha. We got an ID yet?”

Connor reached down as he said, “One moment, Detective.”

Oh fuck. He pressed his fingertips into the blood and Gavin couldn’t look away. Incredibly gently, Connor brought two fingers to his tongue. His breath caught in his throat. Obscene, that was, how could anyone program that kind of control and tenderness into a simple act. Gavin was… hot and bothered over a fucking chemical analysis. He was getting hard at a goddamn crime scene. He really was sick.

“Nadine Dorsey,” announced Connor, oblivious to Gavin’s mental state, “Age 28, no criminal offenses aside from traffic violations. Job unknown.”

Gavin wrenched his gaze down to the corpse. What was left of her. “Can you get her height and weight?” He asked to distract himself.

Connor tilted his head, sweeping his eyes over her torso. “I can’t find that data in a public database, but I estimate based on her remains that she was approximately 125lbs and 5’6.”

“Another woman,” Gavin summarized, “Roughly the same body type, killed the same way.”

“Actually, there are some discrepancies between Dorsey’s death and Lewis’,” Connor said, his LED spinning yellow as his mind worked. “Dorsey’s killer applied more force to the puncture wounds to her chest, breaking through the bone and possibly rupturing one of her lungs. I believe this is what killed her. Based on the amounts of blood, I think we can conclude that she was already dead by the time they severed her left ankle.”

“Ok, so she died quicker. We’ve still got the same weapons and wound pattern.”

“True. It is safe to assume our killer is the same individual.” In a fluid movement he stood, surveying the surrounding floor. “Reed,” He said, drawing Gavin’s attention, “There’s traces of thirium here.” Connor pointed at a section of the floor beyond the blood, but Gavin couldn’t see anything. Still, the android would know. Gavin got to his feet.

“Our guy might be injured.”

“Possibly,” Connor raised his head, piercing Gavin with his gaze, “And they may still be here.”

He automatically unholstered his gun. He gestured for CSU to clear the room and waited as they did. They’d alert the Officers outside to secure the perimeter. Ready, Gavin nodded at Connor. The android stepped over the patch of floor he’d indicated, then set off following the trail only he could see, towards the back of the house. Gavin followed with his gun at the ready. They came to the back door, and Connor slowly turned the handle. Connor took lead as they stepped down into the backyard. It was full of weeds up to his knee. A rusted out washing machine was half-sunk in the mud. But Gavin’s attention fixed on a dilapidated shed at the very edge of the chain-link fence that surrounded the yard. He raised his gun and Connor followed his gaze. He nodded.

Gavin sidestepped, his aim on the door, as Connor cautiously approached the shed. “Hello!” He called out, in his perfectly regulated negotiator tone, “Don’t be alarmed. My name is Connor, I’m with the DPD. I can tell that you are injured, do you need medical attention?” They waited a tense minute, but there was no answer. Connor hesitated a foot outside the shed’s door, his arm outstretched. “I’m going to come in, I’m unarmed, I just want to talk.”

Three things happened near simultaneously.

First, the door swung open from the inside, and Gavin got a split second view of an android, without skin or hair, only bright white plastic, and a flash of dark metal in their hand. Second, Gavin yelled, “Down!” Third, Connor lunged to the side as the android barreled out.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and Gavin’s heart beat once, twice, and he squeezed the trigger.

Both Connor and the android flinched at the _bang_ but the android kept moving. They were running, not towards Gavin, but to the fence. Connor gave chase, a few feet behind, and Gavin lined up another shot. No clear line of sight, Connor was too close.

“Fuck!” He cursed and started after them. The android reached the wire fence and scaled it like a spider, inhumanly fast, and propelled themself over the scraggly top. Connor bounced off the metal, his fingers curling in the wire gaps, and struggled to get a good foothold. Gavin slid through the mud to a messy crouch by his feet. He cupped his hands and held them out. Connor glanced down, and Gavin shouted, “Come on, I’ll boost ya!” Catching on, Connor lifted his leg and, using Gavin as a step, hoisted himself up and sailed over the fence. Gavin saw Connor land like a fucking superhero on the other side and immediately bolt into a sprint after the android.

Frantic, Gavin searched around for something he could climb. That washer… no, it’d take too long to move. The shed? He’d never get up in time. Could he go low? He started running along the fence edge but didn’t see any gaps. Time was up.

“Fuck!” Gavin hissed to himself. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity-fuck!”

Nothing for it. It was on Connor.

Furiously stomping through the muddy yard, Gavin regrouped at the front of the house with the officers. He called out to no one in particular, “We got a runner! BOLO for an android, skinless, last known direction South! Detective in pursuit!” From the police line he saw Tina take point, radioing it in. Gavin walked over to her, adding specifically, “Suspect looked armed, possibly with a knife. Proceed with caution.” He listened to Tina relay that info, then stalked off down the street, with the vague idea that he would cut them off at the intersection.

He walked down the sidewalk, waving on the police vehicles that passed, and glanced down every yard he could see into. No signs of the android or Connor.

Until there was. A glint of blue blood shone on a wooden slatted fence. Fresh, it had to be if he could see it. Gavin made a swift detour down that alley, getting out his phone and using its light to examine the blood. It was shaped like… a palm print.

Gavin looked around and called out, “Connor!” No answer. But… He followed the wooden fence to its edge, finding a gate flapping in the light wind, and he picked up his pace. Behind the neat row of houses were pillars propping up the elevated train. It was dark, but at the base of one pillar, Gavin thought he saw a ring of yellow. “Connor!” He yelled again. Sure enough, the ring flashed to light blue, and Gavin could make out it was attached to a dark figure.

“Detective!” Connor called back, and Gavin followed the sound of his voice. “The suspect got away! She climbed the pillar with impressive agility!”

“She?” Gavin repeated as he joined Connor at its base, staring up as a train started to pass. They had to shout as it roared by. “How d’you know? They didn’t have any skin!”

“I couldn’t tell her model!” Connor explained loudly, turning to face him, stepping closer to be heard. Gavin could barely make out his features despite being inches away. “I only noted the shape was female!”

“Alright, fine!” said Gavin, tipping his head to stare up at the underside of the tracks. Risky move, scaling roughly 20 feet to an active train rail.

“Reed!” Connor brought his attention back. “That climb should have been impossible! I know of no models that could do that, not even RK200!”  
  


“What—” There was sudden silence as the train finished passing and Gavin said, quieter, “What does this mean? We’re looking for an unknown android prototype?”

He felt rather than saw Connor shake his head. “I’m unsure. I need to process this development.”

“Come on,” Gavin reached out automatically, to… what? Touch Connor? Pat him on the shoulder? Squeeze his arm? He hesitated with his hand hovering awkwardly in the space between them. He dropped his eyes, then blinked as they caught on, “Your hands.” With surprise, Connor turned his palms up. Without light it was hard to make out details, but there was clearly dark liquid covering the android’s hands.

“I…” Connor spoke softly. “I must have damaged them in the pursuit.”

Gavin’s gut buzzed with nervous energy. “I didn’t shoot you, did I?” It had been a close call, in front of that shed, and all his mind could do was replay Connor’s flinch.

“No, I’m fine,” Connor replied, but Gavin got the impression he’d keep saying that until he shut down. He swallowed, feeling nauseated, unable to look away from the shining blue blood.

“Let’s, uh, let’s get back to the crime scene. Come on, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a question for all my lovely readers: do you prefer Gavin whump or Connor whump?  
> No reason! Just curious!
> 
> Come back next monday for more!


	8. Chapter 8

“How’d you know my address,” asked Reed in an undertone as he exited the taxi. Connor followed after transmitting the fare. He emerged onto the street, filled with apartment complexes and an assortment of shops, perfectly ordinary and unremarkable except for the fact that Detective Reed lived there. 

“Your personal information is all on file with the DPD,” Connor answered, falling a step behind the Detective, “By the way, you should add an emergency contact.”

He laughed that unhappy sort of laugh only Reed managed to pull off. “Sure, if I could find someone who gave a damn.” Connor didn't have an appropriate response to that. Reed unlocked his front door with an old fashioned brass key. He glanced sidelong at Connor, then ushered him in ahead.

Connor entered the dimly-lit lobby, looking around curiously. A row of mailboxes glinted in the darkness. A corkboard had paper fliers, advertisements, a notice for a lost dog. There was an elevator, and [scanning...] it was operational, and yet Reed started up the stairs. He led Connor up to the seventh floor then to his apartment, his keys jangling, and this time he pushed into the room without holding the door.

“Don’t go analyzing my shit,” Reed warned him, but…

[Movie posters from pre-millennium films _Pulp Fiction_ , _Silence of the Lambs_ … a tv 9 years out of date… potted spider plants, currently dying from overwatering… a cloth ball… a stuffed mouse… short hairs on a blanket… _feline_ hairs…]

“You have a cat,” Connor couldn’t help remarking with delight.

[Probable locations… windowsill, negative… beneath couch, negative… behind tv, negative…]

“Yeah, here he comes,” Reed nodded towards another room, and Connor quickly stepped over to see it was a kitchen, and meowing by an empty bowl was a beautiful adult cat with short black hair. “Greedy bastard,” Reed muttered, ignoring the cat and Connor and stripping off his jacket, “I fed him before heading out, but every time I get home it’s like he’s been starving.”

“Oh what a beautiful boy,” Connor cooed as he knelt to the floor. The cat, intrigued, plodded over to him and brushed up against his knee. “What’s your name?”

Reed answered from the living room, “He has a name, but he won’t answer to it, so I just call him Asshole.” Connor’s brow furrowed and he shot the Detective a reproachful look. “What? It fits. Asshole’s why I got such shitty luck.”

Connor decided not to comment on the superstition. He extended his hand to pet the cat’s head, but paused upon remembering… His self-repairing functions had stopped the bleeding, but he could still feel the thirium between his fingers. He stood, the cat letting out a meow of protest.

“May I use your sink?” Connor asked. Reed didn’t reply with words, rather he made a dismissive gesture with his arm, and Connor interpreted that as permission. He moved to the kitchen sink and began to wash his hands.

[Blue blood on his hands]

[Appropriate]

[How many androids had he killed as a machine?]

[Daniel, Mr. Ortiz’s HK400, the Tracis, the JB300 deviant…]

[Red blood too]

[The guards in the Cyberlife elevator… killed merely because they posed an obstacle…]

Suddenly his hands were yanked out of the water and Connor jolted out of his spiraling thoughts. “Knock it off,” Reed snapped, dropping his hands immediately, and Connor noted that his skin had receded, “You’re making me antsy.” A check of his internal clock told him that he had been washing his hands for five and a half minutes.

“I apologize,” said Connor, keeping his gaze on the skin slowly reclaiming its space. He thought about adding, _I was lost in thought_ , but that felt too vulnerable an admission to make to Reed. In any case, the Detective walked back to the living room without needing his explanation, and Connor did the same. Reed fell onto the couch, the cushions letting out a soft _puff_ , and Connor surveyed the available space. He could perch on the coffee table or take a seat on the other end of the couch. One option afforded more professional distance, and it wasn’t as if he would be uncomfortable, but the other…

“Fuck, just sit already,” demanded Reed irritably.

Okay. Connor sat on the couch, leaving a cushion separating them, and the cat immediately jumped in the space between, curling up to sleep. Absentmindedly, Reed rested his hand on the cat’s head, stroking between his ears. The sight was… Connor felt...

[Internal heat rising to 97.4 degrees]

Why, Connor wondered as he felt the thirium rise below his cheeks, was he overheating now? He wasn’t upset with Reed. This was in fact the most amicable they had ever been.

Connor cast about for something to say to distract himself. “Thank you for your assistance earlier.” Reed glanced at him, appearing confused, so Connor clarified. “In pursuing the suspect, you helped me get over the fence. I appreciate your doing so, even if I was ultimately unsuccessful at apprehending her.”

“It was nothing, alright?” replied Reed, looking away. He reached up and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Uncomfortable. Connor found himself staring at the man’s profile. [Dark circles around his pale gray eyes… a scar of unknown origin… stubble now exceeding 5 o’clock shadow… unkempt hair falling over his forehead…]

[Internal heat rising to 97.7 degrees]

Reed began, “So,” leaning back into the couch, with a hint of a smirk, and Connor anticipated he was about to be provoked, “Why’d they make you pretty?”

Connor’s head twitched slightly at the inquiry. Curious. Not necessarily the question itself. Hank had asked a similar question, though differently phrased. Hank had seemed dismissive of Connor’s appearance. Goofy, he’d said. Reed’s use of the word ‘pretty’ had other connotations.

He explained as simply as he knew how. “All human-interfacing android models are designed with studiously determined aesthetics. My designers chose this appearance to facilitate harmonious and seamless interactions with humans. It is proven that humans are most receptive to people they consider to be attractive, so I suppose that was a factor.”

“Hmph,” Reed grunted, lolling his head, “So not only are you out to steal our jobs they had to make you look like a fuckin’ Calvin Kline model. With,” he added, smirk growing, “A working cock.”

[Internal heat rising to 98.3 degrees]

“I have not ‘stolen’ anything.”

Reed leveled a look at him. “You really believe that?”

“I know it to be fact.”

“Ok, answer me this, Rainman,” [Idiom: a reference to a classic film], “What’s it take for a human to join the DPD?”

A strange question, but Connor would answer. “A DPD applicant must be 18 years of age, be a US citizen, have a high school diploma or GED, have a record free of any felony convictions, complete the screening process which entails a background check and psychological profile, pass a formal interview as well as the physical agility exam and written test, then complete basic training at the Detroit Metropolitan Police Academy.”

“And to make it to Detective?”

Oh, Connor understood what Reed was getting at. He considered dropping the subject, but it did not seem fair to undermine a logical argument. 

“Assuming they complete their 19 weeks of basic training, pass the MCOLES final certification exam, they are assigned patrol work within their precinct. Generally, Officers perform four to five years of patrol work before they are permitted to take the Detective’s exam, though this varies based on prior education.”

“And how’d you get here?” Reed asked with a sardonic grin. Before Connor could say, _Vigorous testing and improvements upon my model,_ Reed supplied his own answer. “You were just cooked up to be the perfect little Sherlock. Nothing we can do to compete with a walking forensics lab, right? Built faster, stronger, smarter than we can ever be. And if you hadn’t fucked up your programming, or if Robo Jesus hadn’t risen up, I bet anything there’d be a Connor in every police station across the country within the year. And what do you think would happen to those kids trying to pass their exams?”

Connor was experiencing an emotion he had no experience with before. Or… [scanning memory]... No, there was a shade of it when Fowler told Hank that they were off the case. In a human he supposed it would be shame.

“I,” Connor began speaking slowly, trying to predict how his words would be received, “was aware that many anti-android sentiments could be traced to job insecurity. However, I had not…” From Reed there was a sudden increase in interest. He fixed his gaze on the android’s face. Connor paused, reassessing how best to say this. “I had assumed this concern to be irrational. That competent humans would have nothing to fear.” Reed’s stress level rose quickly above 50 percent and Connor hastened to say, “I can see now how it is not. Thank you, Detective, for explaining it in an enlightening way.”

[Stress level dropping, 48 percent, 43 percent, 39 percent...]

“Don’t thank me, tin can. Just…” A furrow formed in his brow, though his stress level continued dropping. A contradiction.

“While I feel I have a better understanding,” Connor said, hoping this would not anger the man, not after he seemed to be calming, “I don’t know how to integrate it into my behavior. I can’t change how I was made, even if I wanted to.”

For some reason that made Reed laugh, loudly and startlingly, although Connor didn’t see the humor.

“Yeah,” He muttered, apparently to himself, “Yeah, I get that.” 

Then something unexpected happened. Reed turned his head and they locked eyes. And… he didn’t speak. They just stared at each other and Connor felt a sudden understanding. It was not unlike connecting with another android. He didn’t know why, but it felt like saying anything would end this moment, and that was the last thing he wanted. Connor wanted… he wanted… Whatever it was he wanted eluded him, but the feeling grew and grew. His mouth went dry. That had never happened before.

Reed let out an abrupt cough and broke their connection, looking away, and Connor couldn’t help thinking that Reed knew what Connor was feeling. That he understood it better than himself.

“We came here to talk shop,” He said, tone strange, strangled, “We should… do that.”

Tilting his head slightly, Connor said, “Of course, Detective.”

“Uh, you can, uh… Gavin’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And I can't change! Even if I tried! Even if I wanted to..._
> 
> I don't know why, but I've headcanoned that Gavin loves 90s films. Have you got any random headcanons to share?


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, so this isn't your normally scheduled programming.

I'm putting this story on hiatus for now. It wasn't an easy decision. The world, and particularly my country, America, is so screwed up. Continuing to post this story when my focus has been a hundred miles away just doesn't seem right.

I was arrested while protesting against the systemic oppression of black people. I'm not in the mood to write anything that could even remotely be considered pro-cop right now. I love DBH and I love Convin and I _really_ love writing this story, but until I can look at it and not be furious, I need to stop.

So bookmark this, subscribe, whatever you wanna do. I will get back to writing when I'm ready. For now, why not consider donating to [Black Lives Matter](https://secure.actblue.com/donate/ms_blm_homepage_2019). Sign petitions, contribute to bail funds, correct your racist aunt on facebook. And keep reading fanfic, but also be critical about what you consume. I'm someone who loves mysteries and crime shows, but I can't forget that the NYPD isn't Olivia Benson and the FBI isn't Teresa Lisbon. There's too much wrong to gloss over.

And before commenting, just know this really came from my heart. I love everyone who's come on this journey with me.

❤️ Laury


End file.
